Tempus Fugit
by Fangs of Poison
Summary: A prank by the infamous Peeves sends our heroine into the past. Much to her astonishment, she begins to fall in love with those around her. Could a mysterious illness bring an end to newfound happiness? HGRL.
1. Chapter 1

**Tempus Fugit**

By Fangs of Poison

Disclaimer: No, I don't own anything. Does anyone else, other than me, find these really stupid and pointless? I mean, if I did own these characters, I would be selling my stories, not posting them on the internet for everyone to see and read for free!

Chapter One:

The sun filtered in from the small, dusty window, shining its light on the sleeping figure of one Hermione Granger. She stirred slightly at the rude interruption, and attempted to block herself from the morning light.

Wait, morning light?

Hermione bolted upright and squinted at her watch. "Shit!" she yelled, and hurriedly tossed off her covers, "I'm never going to make it to the dungeons in time!"

It was, you see, already ten minutes of eight, meaning, of course, that Hermione had ten minutes to get down from her lofty dorm in Gryffindor Tower to the dungeon classroom where her Potions class was held.

Hermione quickly dressed with her sleep-deadened fingers only slipping twice on the buttons in her haste. She pulled a brush through her still wild and untameable hair, and pronounced herself ready to go. Grabbing her bag, she began her rushed descent.

It wasn't until she reached the common room that she realized she'd almost forgotten one of her most important, and prized possessions; her timeturner. In her seventh year, Hermione was taking so many NEWT classes that there wasn't enough room on her schedule to accommodate them. As such, she brought her faithful timeturner out of retirement, and used it to do several hours over again.

Yes, it was a lot of work. Yes, it was a lot of responsibility. Yes, she was awfully tired. Up until this morning, however, it hadn't caused any problems. (For Hermione had realized that the timeturner was the reason for her sleeping in.) As far as Hermione was concerned, the timeturner was beneficial. Would any of the rest of her classmates know as much as she would? No, of course not. She would be the knowledgeable one. She would be the one to get job offers. Not them.

Hermione dashed up the stairs, retrieved the necklace (it was sitting on her bureau, just where she'd left it the night before), threw it over her head (although it did catch once in her overly bushy hair), and raced out of the common room, barely sparing a minute to catch her breath.

Now, it's been said that all things happen for a reason. That fate is the ruler of us all. Perhaps you don't believe this, but it doesn't really matter what you think. Maybe, on this very morning, Hermione was destined to wake up late. Perhaps she was destined to remember her timeturner at the last minute. Perhaps she was fated to feel so very rushed that she didn't pay attention to what was going on around her. Perhaps, though not to sound dramatic, it was her _destiny_.

At any rate, be it coincidence, destiny, or just plain luck, she was so preoccupied with rushing to class that she didn't notice Peeves floating around her. Nor did she notice Peeves' latest prank, the prank planned for the next unwitting student passing through the very corridor she just entered.

BAM! In front of her, the bust of one saint or another (Hermione didn't catch which) came crashing down. Now, anyone who's tried running with a book bag can tell you, it's not an easy task, especially when you're forced into a sudden stop. It is, for that reason, that our heroine stumbled backward, right onto some green goo, which caused her to slide backwards down the hallway and slip over the railing of the balcony, and disappear from sight.

**A/N:** Okay, this is my first fic, could you tell? I'm writing it because I'm bored, my mother has taken my internet card, and I love HG/RL fics! It would be great if you'd review! I'd really appreciate it, as would my less-than-astounding muse!


	2. Chapter 2

**Tempus Fugit**

By Fangs of Poison

Disclaimer: No, I don't own anything. Does anyone else, other than me, find these really stupid and pointless? I mean, if I did own these characters, I would be selling my stories, not posting them on the internet for everyone to see and read for free!

Chapter Two:

On a crisp, November day in 1977, as any student who was there could testify, the shrill sound of screaming interrupted their afternoon classes.

A torrent of students and teachers rushed into the hallway, hoping to discern the cause of this racket. They were not disappointed. For there, prone on the floor, lay a teenage girl.

A few of the teachers rushed forward, Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick, to be specific, and, after checking the girl over for any physical ailments (besides the obvious lack of consciousness) and a quick, whispered conversation (which the students, needless to say, were not privy to), the girl was levitated to the hospital wing.

* * *

Whiteness. The first thing Hermione could noticed about her surroundings was the stark whiteness of everything. The second thing Hermione noticed was the smell of "sick" that all hospitals had, immediately quelling her fears that she'd died and the white was actually the clouds of Heaven.

She rubbed her eyes and sat up, almost falling over again when met with the ice blue orbs of the headmaster.

"Professor Dumbledore?" she questioned, "What are you doing here?"

He blinked, momentarily startled, then cleared his throat and spoke, "Well, this is my school, Miss…?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes, "Granger, sir, Hermione Granger, you know that. And I'm quite aware that this is your school, particularly as I attend it, and have done so for the past seven years!"

It was Dumbledore's turn to narrow his eyes, "Miss Granger, if that is your name, you are not a student of mine. Frankly, I've never seen you before."

Hermione snorted, "Of course you have! Don't you remember, I'm best friends with Harry and Ron!"

At his blank look she furiously added "Harry Potter and Ron Weasley! We're all in Gryffindor, surely you know what I'm talking about!"

"Miss Granger, the only 'Potter' I know is 'James Potter', a seventh year Gryffindor, himself!"

"That's impossible! James Potter's dead!" Hermione furiously spat, "Stop messing around! You know who I am, and probably more than any other student here!"

"Wait a moment, did you say James Potter's dead?" Dumbledore quickly questioned, a sudden comprehension glinting in his eyes.

Hermione, not noticing this, rolled hers, in response. "Yes, Professor, James Potter's dead. He died in 1981 and-"

Dumbledore held up his hand, interrupting her tirade, "Miss Granger, please tell me what year it is."

"It's 1997, Professor," Hermione automatically replied, "But I don't see –"

"Currently, Miss Granger, it is 1977. November 23, 1977 to be exact."

"No! That's impossible! It's 1997, Professor! October 11!"

"No, my dear, I'm afraid it isn't. It would seem that you've gone back in time." Dumbledore replied gravely.

"Oh, well, that's fine!" Hermione spoke, her voice shaking with false confidence, "You just need to get me back, right sir?"

Dumbledore stared down at the girl, looking petite in her over-large hospital gown. He sighed and ran a hand through his beard, knowing that this would, indeed, crush the child's spirit. How could he tell the hopeful, shining face that she may have to wait twenty-years to see her loved ones again.

He took a deep breath, "The truth, Miss Granger, is that I don't know of a way to get you back."

**A/N: **Thank you to those who reviewed! I'll try to get another chapter out as soon as I can! (Although that may, or may not, be a good thing!) Again, I'd really appreciate it if you'd review, as would my less-than-astounding muse!


	3. Chapter 3

**Tempus Fugit**

By Fangs of Poison

Disclaimer: No, I don't own anything. Does anyone else, other than me, find these really stupid and pointless? I mean, if I did own these characters, I would be selling my stories, not posting them on the internet for everyone to see and read for free!

Chapter Three:

Hermione breath caught in her throat, she stared at Dumbledore, her large, brown eyes searching his worn, aged face. She looked into his crystal blue eyes, noting that, indeed, the customary twinkle was missing. Her own eyes began to burn, the salty tears welling up in them. She took a deep shuddering breath and momentarily glanced away, gaining the control she needed.

A large, yet undeniably fake smile was plastered onto her face as she faced the headmaster once more.

"May-maybe you've just forgotten how to get me back!" she exclaimed, stuttering only slightly in her panic, "I mean, I got here, didn't I? Yes, yes, there must be a way to get me back."

Dumbledore stared down at her, an unnaturally grave expression on his face, "No, Miss Granger, I'm afraid there is no way to get you back."

As if this were a cue, the smile fell. Hermione broke down. She started sobbing uncontrollably and grabbed the rough hospital sheets to her face, with a force that, were they not enchanted, would have ripped them to shreds.

Rocking back and forth, her face red with emotion, she didn't notice as the Headmaster's arms wrapped around her.

"My dear," he comforted, "It will be alright, eventually, we will find a way to get you back. Don't cry."

Her sobs quieted and she fell limp against Dumbledore. Thoroughly exhausted, both physically and emotionally, she fell into a deep, yet not very restful, slumber.

* * *

The next time the Headmaster came to visit, nearly a day had passed, and Hermione had come to terms with, though she was not particularly happy about it, the fact that she might not be able to return to her time. 

"Good morning, Miss Granger." Dumbledore greeted, in what Hermione felt was an annoyingly cheerful tone.

"Headmaster." She replied, nodding.

"I presume you are still a student here, correct?" he questioned, that damnable twinkle in his eye.

"Yes, I am." She replied, keeping her responses to a bare minimum.

"Well, we can't have you missing your lessons, now can we?" he asked, grinning madly.

"Professor Dumbledore!" she exclaimed, finally breaking her sullen almost-silence, "You can't possibly think it's a good idea for me to join in with the students!"

"Why ever not?"

"Use your head, Professor! I know all of the students' futures!" she thundered, "How did this seem at all like a good idea?"

There it was again, that infernal twinkle. "How could he be smiling at a time like this!" Hermione mused, "It's not funny! I could change everything!"

"Miss Granger," Dumbledore started, a huge smile under his long beard, "From what I can tell you seem like a sensible girl. As such, I expect you will not speak of the future to anyone."

Hermione sighed in annoyance and closed her eyes. How could she not speak to anyone of the future? Think of all the lives that would be saved! Besides, how was she ever going to behave normally around people like Harry's parents, or Sirius Black? Not to mention Peter! How was she to behave normally around _him_? And what of Remus? How was she ever going to act as though she were _peers_ with her former professor?

Dragging her thoughts away from the Marauders and back to the present, she voiced the question itching at the back of her mind, "Yes, but how am I going to explain my sudden appearance here? I can't be a transfer student, I have no accent! Not to mention the fact that I was found, how did Madam Pomfrey say, passed out on the floor, I believe."

Dumbledore frowned in thought, "I suppose," he began slowly, "You could tell the students that you came from the future, and if they ask, tell them that you don't know of anyone's fate. Yes, that would work."

Hermione mentally shook her head, no, it wouldn't work. It would be very difficult for her not to say anything to anyone about what happened in the future. If she didn't get close to any of them, it might be easier, though. Yes, that was it. She wouldn't give anyone the time of day.

Oh! But that wouldn't work, either! She couldn't flat out ignore everyone, especially if she were stuck in this time! She'd have to find a way to interact with others and just…keep her mouth closed.

"Yes," she said, a determined glint in her eye, "Yes, Professor, I do believe that _would_ work."

* * *

Dressed in her robes from the day before (she didn't have any others with her, but at least they were freshly laundered), Hermione was escorted by the Headmaster to his office (as though she didn't know the way!), where she would be, for the second time in her life, sorted. 

Upon entering, she was greeted with the familiarity of the room. Apparently, Professor Dumbledore wasn't a fan of change. The same trinkets were sitting on his desk, Fawkes was still perched on his stand in the corner, and the same portraits of the Heads of yesteryear were still hanging up, pretending to be asleep.

"Miss Granger," Dumbledore said, pulling her from her internal musings, "I believe it's time for you to be sorted."

At this, a few portraits cracked open their eyes in wonder, quickly shutting them, else they be detected, and one or two even exchanged whispered conversation at this pronouncement.

Hermione nodded, her throat dry, and she reached out a trembling hand to the worn, tattered, hat.

"Why am I so nervous?" she wondered, "I've been through this before, just put the damn thing on!"

And that she did. The hat quickly fell down past her nose, blocking all else from view. Quite suddenly, a voice she hadn't heard in seven years, but one she was sure she'd never forget, began to wheezily speak.

"Miss Hermione Granger, how extraordinary! From what I can see here, you've been sorted before!" the hat said.

"Yes, seven years ago for me, but many years in your future…"

"Yes, yes, I'm quite aware, now do be quiet while I attempt to sort you!" the hat replied in a mildly irritated tone.

Hermione quickly clamped her proverbial mouth shut. She didn't know why, but the hat's orders were oddly compelling.

"Well, my dear, I still say that Gryffindor is the place for you…"

"No! Couldn't I go somewhere else? It would be awfully difficult for me to be there! Please! How about Ravenclaw?" Hermione thought, frantically.

"Ravenclaw? You feel that you're smart enough to be in Ravenclaw? Aren't you a bit arrogant! Maybe Slytherin's the place for you!" the hat replied, "Well, even though you are fit for Ravenclaw, and yes, even for Slytherin, I still say that Gryffindor's is what's best."

"You're sure of it?"

"My dear, I'm a hat, of course I'm sure. Besides, you're _needed_ in GRYFFINDOR!"

The hat was abruptly pulled off of Hermione's head, leaving her to ponder what exactly the hat meant by saying she was "needed".

**A/N: **Phwoar! Exhausting writing that, it is. (Yoda speak, if ever I've seen it) I've just finished an English Regents (although, of course, you're getting this weeks after I wrote it! HA!) and am thoroughly exhausted! Thanks to all who reviewed! I appreciate it very much! Leave a review, too, so my under-appreciated muse can feel better! Besides, I need some cheering up! I just had ALL FOUR of my wisdom teeth removed, that deserves a review or two, in my book.


	4. Chapter 4

**Tempus Fugit**

By Fangs of Poison

Disclaimer: No, I don't own anything. Does anyone else, other than me, find these really stupid and pointless? I mean, if I did own these characters, I would be selling my stories, not posting them on the internet for everyone to see and read for free!

Chapter Four:

"Excellent!" Dumbledore exclaimed, a jovial expression on his face, "Most excellent, indeed!"

Hermione offered him a small smile in return. Why on earth was she _needed_ to be in Gryffindor? Wouldn't it be better for her _not_ to be there, considering the nature of the knowledge she possessed? Now she was going to be incredibly tempted to change the future, putting almost everyone's (at least everyone from her time's) existence on the line.

Mentally, she shook herself. Was she really trying to decipher the inner workings of a _hat_? The concept was almost ridiculous to consider!

Shoving these thoughts from her mind, she listened attentively as Dumbledore told her the password to get past the Fat Lady and sent her off to her "new" common room.

* * *

Blessedly, she met no one of any importance (or at least, no one of any importance in Hermione's mind) on the familiar trek up to Gryffindor Tower. Outside the Fat Lady's portrait, Hermione momentarily paused. She took a deep breath, straightened her skirt (a compulsory habit she had since she was little), and spoke the password in a nearly steady voice. The portrait swung outward, and, with a final mental preparation, Hermione stepped in.

Noise greeted Hermione, the delightful buzzing noise of many people talking at once, the bubbling of half-formed words fighting to achieve the most volume and enter the listeners' ears all at the same time. She sighed in contentment; some things may have changed in twenty years, but the excited chatter of students having been released from their daily classes was certainly not one of them.

This chatter, however, ceased the moment Hermione's presence was made known, and, of course, once everyone realized they'd never seen this strange girl before. She awkwardly stood there, under the scrutiny of all the Gryffindors currently in the common room. When a cry of "Bugger off and leave the poor girl alone!" echoed from a spot near the fireplace.

A boy charged forward, parting the crowd as he went. "I said, 'Bugger off!' Leave the poor girl in peace!" he shouted.

When the boy was fully satisfied that the crowd was no longer, overtly, at any rate, staring at Hermione, he grasped her hand and led her over to the couch where three more boys were sitting.

"Idiots, the lot of them," the boy rolled his eyes, "I'm James Potter, by the way." He stuck out his hand, and Hermione shook it, politely.

If Hermione had to pick one thing in her life she knew for a fact, it would, without a doubt, be that Harry took after his father. Here was the famed James Potter, the same height, the same build, the same everything, down to the little dimple on his left cheek, as his son. Of course, the startling green eyes, and the scar were missing, but from a distance, no one would be able to tell the two of them apart.

"And I, fair creature, am Sirius Black!" he swept down onto one knee and kissed the back of Hermione's hand, causing her heart, although she'd never admit it, to beat a few times faster.

There was no doubt about it, Hermione reasoned, standing at just over six feet tall, Sirius was definitely the most attractive of all the Marauders. His shoulder length black hair, sparkling blue eyes, and devilishly handsome smile practically exuded sexuality. His one flaw, of course, was that, and it was blatantly obvious to anyone, Sirius knew he was a sex god. He knew he caused a full one half (and sometimes more) of the Hogwart's population to have naughty dreams. It was present in every move he made, in the roguish smile with the dazzlingly white teeth; this boy knew he was the subject of every school girls' fantasy.

"I'm Peter Pettigrew," a mousy little boy squeaked, to which Hermione waved and fought to put a smile on her face.

Much shorter than the other two, Peter stood at 5'7", there was nothing very remarkable about him, his colourless hair and chubby build was nothing to write home about. He was, without a doubt, just plain ordinary.

The last boy leaned forward, "I'm Remus Lupin," he offered, "It's nice to meet you." He extended his hand, and immediately upon grasping it, Hermione felt a jolt of electricity flow through her, Remus, judging by his expression, felt the same thing.

Hermione surveyed him. He was an inch shorter than Sirius, and, while not as overtly attractive, was still nothing to sneeze at. His light brown hair was just long enough so that, when not paying attention, it fell into his amber eyes in such an adorable way, that Hermione's fingers were just itching to brush it away. His muscles had just enough definition to be noticeable, but not unattractively so.

A slight cough tore Hermione from her thoughts. With a start, she realized that she was still grasping Remus' hand. "Sorry," she whispered, reluctantly withdrawing it.

"And who, may I ask, are you?" Sirius questioned.

"Oh!" Hermione hadn't realized that she'd neglected to mention her own name, "I'm Hermione Granger, I'm…I'm new." She finished lamely.

James grinned at her, reminding her so much of Harry, "Well, we figured."

Sirius nodded his agreement then asked, "What year are you in?"

"Seventh," Hermione replied swiftly, "What about you?"

"We're in seventh year, too!" Sirius cried, and threw an arm over her shoulders.

Remus must have noticed Hermione's discomfort for he softly punched Sirius in the ribs, "Get off her, you great lug, can't you see she's uncomfortable?"

"Ow, geez Moony!" Sirius exclaimed, removing his arm only to achieve his goal of rubbing his sore ribs, "That really hurt, you know?"

"Okay, now's the time to play dumb," Hermione thought, and, putting a puzzled expression on her face, simply asked, "Moony?"

The four boys froze, none of them knowing what exactly to say, "I'm Moony," Remus finally piped up, "It's just a nickname they made up for me."

"That's an awfully strange nickname, where on earth did you come up with it?"

"Um…" faltered James, "Inside joke from second year!"

The boys all nodded enthusiastically.

"I see." Hermione acquiesced.

"Yeah, well, where did _you_ come from?" Peter sneered.

Now was Hermione's turn to freeze. It was true Dumbledore told her to tell the students the truth, but now that it was time, Hermione wasn't sure it was the right idea. Would they freak out? Would they believe her? Well, here goes nothing…

"I'm from the future." Hermione replied simply.

**A/N:** Okay, so this wasn't the best chapter, I'm sorry! I have an audition tonight for "Beauty and the Beast" and am slightly worried about it. I'm aware that that's not an excuse, but at the moment, I really don't care. Thank you to those who reviewed! Please review to keep me writing, and my muse pumping out ideas!


	5. Chapter 5

**Tempus Fugit**

By Fangs of Poison

Disclaimer: No, I don't own anything. Does anyone else, other than me, find these really stupid and pointless? I mean, if I did own these characters, I would be selling my stories, not posting them on the internet for everyone to see and read for free!

Chapter Five:

"The _future_?" intoned Remus in a highly doubtful voice.

Hermione nodded and shrugged, as though it was no big deal, "The future." She repeated.

The boys gaped at her, not one of them believing that she was telling the truth, there was no way she could have come from the future! It just didn't make sense!

Sirius gave a nervous laugh and ran a hand through his gorgeous hair, "No you're not." He stated, quite confidently, "You couldn't be from the future, it's not possible!"

"I assure you," Hermione began, "I _am_ from the future, twenty years from the future, in fact."

James eagerly leaned forward, "So, if you are from the future, what happens to all of us?"

Hermione, yet again, froze up. She knew she couldn't tell them, but she'd never been a very good liar, and there was no doubt in her mind, that hiding a secret like this, would be quite difficult, especially considering the nature of the boys in front of her. Luckily, she was saved from answering by a yet-to-be-convinced Remus.

"Wait, James, we don't even _know_ if she's from the future!"

"Yeah," Peter piped up, "She might just be making it up!"

Hermione scowled in irritation. Deep inside, she knew Peter was making a valid point, and that she would probably be saying the exact same thing had she been in his position, but she really, _really_ disliked Peter. **Anything** he did she found annoying.

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Fine, you don't have to believe me," she stated primly, "Frankly, I don't care whether you believe me or not, it's no big deal to me." Somehow, though, at least deep inside, Hermione felt that it _was_ a big deal.

* * *

Later that night, Hermione was sitting on her four poster bed in her "new" dorm, meeting her new roommates. 

One of them was a very pretty with auburn hair that fell almost to her waist, a smattering of freckles across her nose and shoulders, and bright green eyes that Hermione would know anywhere. She was about five and a half feet tall and seemed quite mature for her age. This, of course, was Lily Evans, Harry's mum.

The other girl was quite tall, about five foot nine, and had dark brown, almost black, hair that fell in curls to her shoulder blades. She had piercing, dark blue eyes, and a perfectly unblemished olive complexion. She introduced herself as Ella Bradford, then promptly closed the hangings around her bed and went to sleep.

Lily was not nearly as anti-social as her roommate, and proceeded to tell Hermione this, as she sat at the foot of her bed, "Never mind her," she said, "She doesn't like talking to many people. Afraid of them, I think. Oh, she'll talk to me, of course, but that's only because we've known each other for seven years!" Lily laughed, "Imagine if she didn't! But she'll warm up to you eventually, I promise."

Hermione laughed as well. She had taken an immediate liking to Lily, she was sweet, nice, and even though she was a bit talkative, she was incredibly smart. Lily had also, to Hermione's immense relief, immediately decided that Hermione was telling the truth in the whole "from the future" matter, as, after squinting into her face for a moment, she declared that Hermione didn't "have the face of a liar", whatever that meant.

Lily began to brush her hair, "The boys will warm up to you, too. You have to understand, they're not the most trusting lot. Oh, James will believe anything," here she gave a girlish sigh, "But that's because he's just such a trusting person! He's never had anything go wrong in his life, you know?" Lily's eyes searched Hermione's for a trace of understanding.

Hermione, knowing she had to respond, cleared her throat and stated, "But what about the others? Surely…"

Lily put her hair brush down and pursed her lips thoughtfully, "Well, Sirius has a lot of family issues," she dropped her voice, "They're not very _good_ people, his family," she continued, back to her original tone, "But don't you worry, Sirius is _not_ like them at all! He's exactly the opposite, to tell you the truth."

Hermione remembered, regretfully, the portrait of Mrs. Black at 12 Grimmauld Place, and nodded in understanding.

"Peter," Lily continued, "Is just very shy. I attribute it to him witnessing his father's heart attack when he was five. He was alone in the house with him, you know, his mother was on a trip. He had no idea what to do, sat with the body for a day and a half before anyone noticed. Bit traumatizing, to tell you the truth."

Hermione was aghast; she didn't know that about Peter. Then again, no one talked about Peter at all; it just wasn't a subject that was brought up. Never would it, or should it, be discussed in front of Harry or Remus, especially after Sirius' death. It almost made her feel sorry for Peter, until, of course, she remembered what he did, or no, sorry, what he was going to do.

"What about Remus?" Hermione asked, even though she knew exactly what it was with Remus, she just couldn't let Lily know that she knew.

"R-Remus?" Lily repeated, her voice shaking.

"Yes," Hermione adopted a puzzled expression, "What about Remus?"

Lily bit the pad of her thumb, something Hermione would come to know as a nervous, or thoughtful habit of Lily's, "Remus, he, um, there's nothing with Remus," Lily nodded several times, as if reassuring herself as to the validity of the statement, "Nothing at all…"

An awkward silence descended in the room, Hermione fidgeted a bit, then whispered, with a sly look at Lily, "That James sure is dishy, isn't he?"

This, seemingly innocent statement, prompted an "Oh Jesus God! Don't get her started!" from behind the hangings of Ella's bed, and a certain red head to blush a red that clashed, quite alarmingly, with the colour of her hair.

**A/N:** My brother just had to get four cavities filled and I was all alone in the house. This is the product of my loneliness, and the fact that my mother has the internet card. Thanks to all those who reviewed! Please, continue to do so, I love the feeling of opening my email and seeing reviews, it makes me happy!

On another note, the next couple weeks are going to be a bit crazy. I'm heading off to England for the Cambridge College Programme for three weeks, I will try my hardest to pop into an internet cafe and update for you at some point, but if I can't, I will AS SOON AS I GET HOME! The day after I get back, I'm heading off to Southern California/Mexico for another two weeks. Again, I will attempt to post whenever I can, but if I can't...I will post AS SOON AS I GET BACK!

Please, please, PLEASE don't abandon this story. I promise I have several more chapters written and and outline that will carry us through twenty or even thirty chapters! I also implore you to review, leave me a treat for when I get back!


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